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[B]Chapter Eleven: Desperate Times[/B]

Severus Snape shuddered slightly as he moved down a tunnel just underneath Hogsmeade. In spite of his fondness for the darkness, even Snape felt that there was a slightly inhumane quality to this place. The Dark Lord had insisted that this would be the perfect meeting place, as no one would ever guess Death Eaters meeting practically under the nose of Albus Dumbledore. The plan was essentially foolproof and Snape did favor it, because it allowed him to slip away from Hogwarts and slip back without Dumbledore becoming too suspicious.

Snape raised his hand and knocked three times on a moldy looking wooden door. An eerie silence followed, before the door swung open.

“Enter,” hissed the voice of the Dark Lord himself and Snape walked in without further ado, as the hooded form of the Dark Lord looked up. “Ah, Severus, do sit down and make yourself at home.”

The Dark Lord waved his wand, conjuring a wooden chair, allowing Snape to move forward and sit down.

“My Lord, Dumbledore has requested that I track down and bring Harry Potter to him,” declared Snape, without preamble which caused Voldemort to look up with interest.

“Very interesting,” declared Voldemort thoughtfully. “Dumbledore chose you, despite the animosity you have had for the boy’s father. Extremely peculiar behavior for Dumbledore, even when considering his eccentricities.”

“Alastor Moody refused to hunt down the boy, suggesting that his time would be better spent hunting down Death Eaters that escaped Azkaban,” declared Snape, which caused Voldemort to give a high, cold, laugh, looking quite amused.

“Dumbledore seems to be losing his hold on his subordinates, perfect,” declared Voldemort. “There is the matter of the Potter boy, Severus. Make Dumbledore believe you are hunting down Potter to bring to him, but once you find him, bring him directly to me.”

“To kill him, my Lord,” suggested Snape in a hopeful voice.

“No, Severus,” declared Voldemort shortly.

“Might I ask, why, my Lord?” asked Snape, in a perplexed voice. “This boy caused you to nearly die…”

“No, Severus, Harry Potter had little to nothing to do with my fall,” hissed Voldemort. “It was more of a miscalculation on my part. I should not have attempted to murder the boy, but in hindsight, how was I to know my unblockable Killing Curse would rebound on me?”

Voldemort sat there in silence.

“I should have murdered Lily and James Potter, yes, they defied me one too many times and I allowed their actions to taint any logic I had regarding Harry Potter, a simple mistake, but one I shall not repeat every again,” continued Voldemort. “I should have taken the boy, attempted to see what kind of potential he had. If he had the great power that the prophecy hinted, I could have made him a killer, an assassin, living only for the purpose to serve and kill for Lord Voldemort.”

“So a mere tool,” added Snape curtly. “Ironic, as Dumbledore seems to want the same thing of the boy, but does it under the guise of the so called greater good.”

“Precisely, but at least I am more straight forward with my aims and don’t hide beneath a mask of benevolence,” declared Voldemort. “Dumbledore believes he is doing what’s best for the boy, but once I have the boy, I will do what’s best for our goal of the purification of the Magical World. Once Harry Potter has outlived his usefulness to me…”

Snape had no need for Voldemort to finish that statement. Potter would be used as a tool as long as the Dark Lord saw fit and then would be tossed to the side like a piece of rubbish once the Dark Lord felt he outlived his usefulness.

“Of course, I am getting ahead of myself,” declared Voldemort, more to himself then Snape, before turning his full attention to Snape. “Snape, you must find Potter, and then I can mold him.”

“And what of the mobsters that have been rumored to have kidnapped Potter?” prompted Snape.

“If they get in your way, kill them,” replied Voldemort coldly before deciding to touch upon something else he wanted a report from Snape of. “Now, Severus, your report on your trip to the Flamel residence.”

“The defenses seemed weaker then one would expect at first sight, my Lord,” declared Snape quickly. “My scan of the premises was sadly interrupted when I was engaged into battle by a visitor of Flamel’s. I had to flee to seek medical attention once my hand was injured by a firearm attack.”

“Snape, no excuses, I require information from Flamel’s library,” hissed Voldemort in a dangerous voice. “While the Philosopher’s Stone is safely inside of Gringotts, entering there under the guise of trying to steal it was the perfect plan, a plan that did not work to perfection thanks to you crumpling at the sight of a little blood.”

Snape decided it would be best not to inform the Dark Lord that he came close to losing his wand hand at the hands of that psychopath’s attack but decided to press on with something that he had been going over in his mind since the incident.

“He seemed to know me…” declared Snape before trailing off, realizing. “It was Black, he just escaped Azkaban, it makes perfect sense, and now he’s out to kill me in some twisted vengeance. My attacker might have been disguised but only two people have called me that disgusting name and one of them is dead.”

“Now, Severus, don’t jump to conclusions,” hissed Voldemort. “And don’t forget yourself. Seeking out Sirius Black is not what I requested you to do for your mission. Your mission is to bring Harry Potter to me, regardless of the methods.”

“Of course, my Lord,” declared Snape in a strained voice, getting to his feet and bowing towards the Dark Lord. “Will that be all you require of me, my Lord?”

“Yes, Severus, you’re excused,” hissed Voldemort and Snape wasted little time leaving. Both Dumbledore and Voldemort were putting pressure on him to find Potter. Hunting down a six year old brat was the last thing that Snape wanted to spend his weekend doing and that included marking the abominations that passed for the first year Gryffindor Potions essays.

Voldemort sat leaning back. Using Wormtail’s body had definite drawbacks. He suffered magical fatigue at a higher rate then he would have normally and he had strong urges to eat a lot of cheese. Voldemort hoped he could still get into Flamel’s residence, as he counted on a particular piece of knowledge found in the library as the final component to his new body. The other elements that Voldemort required for the ritual would work on their own, but Voldemort wanted that extra bit just as a precaution. As he found out when he tried and killed Harry Potter, nothing was fool proof. The more anchors towards immortality, the better, as far as Voldemort was concerned. Death would be cheated no matter what and Voldemort would achieve his aims.

Outside of a rundown flat in one of the worst parts of London late Friday evening, Harry checked out his magically induced disguise in the mirror of the limo. He was just over five feet tall. His eyes were black as the night sky, showing absolutely no compassion and intimidating to all that looked into them. His hair was grey, with the hints of balding, with small scars on his face. His right hand was covered in scar tissue. The final piece of the puzzle was Lucius Malfoy’s pimp cane.

“So, gentlemen, what do you think?” asked Harry.

“Perfect Boss Potter,” declared one of Harry’s mobsters, a tall man by the name of Stevens. “That hocus pocus works wonders, no one would expect you to be a six year old.”

“I quite agree,” declared Antonio. “Now, Boss Potter, I must warn you that this guy has been trying to evade us in paying his dues to us. Your grandfather loaned him some money twenty years ago and he’s been moving around to give us the slip, but we finally caught up to him.”

“So, he’ll pay us, or he’ll pay the price,” declared Harry, nodding in agreement, as they exited the limo, walking towards the door. Harry and Antonio lead the way, with another five mobsters tailing behind them.

Antonio raised his hand, knocking on the door of the flat. Harry picked up a quick flurry of movement inside.

“Alright, Semple, open up, we know you’re in there,” declared Antonio in a forceful voice. “The new boss wants to have a few words with you.”

“Allow me,” declared Harry, with a twisted smirk, before pulling out his wand. “Alohomora!”

The door opened and a pathetic middle aged man cowered as Harry lead his mobsters inside.

“Ah, Semple, let me introduce you to the new boss, Boss Potter,” declared Antonio.

“Good evening, Mr. Semple,” declared Harry in a raspy voice. “It has come to my attention that my grandfather did you a favor many years ago and you didn’t repay that favor back.”

“Wait a minute, you’re Herb Evans’s grandson,” declared Semple. “Your grandfather would have understood, Boss Potter, he wouldn’t have come and hunted me down like a rapid…”

“Silence,” rasped Harry. “What my grandfather would or wouldn’t have done isn’t the case right now? The fact remains you owe us big and you will pay everything you owe us.”

“I don’t have anything,” declared Semple in a simpering voice. “I took the money that Boss Evans promptly gave me and gambled it. I lost every pound, you got to believe me.”

“You lying scumbag!” yelled Antonio, who back handed Semple. “We could have used that money for something more productive, but you lied. You told us you were going to open a restaurant and we would get a substantial cut from your profits. Yet, you piss all the money away for your gambling addiction, even through you swore to Boss Evans you wouldn’t.”

“Is this true, Semple?” declared Harry in a cold voice, as he leaned on the pimp cane. “You played my grandfather for a fool and took his money, for a gambling addiction.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” begged Semple. “Please, I’ll do anything to make up the money; you know I’m good for it.”

“Unless you hand over everything you owe right now, you’re not good for nothing,” declared Harry swiftly, his raspy voice broke.

“Boss Potter raises an excellent point,” declared one of the mobsters. “Do you have any money?”

Semple looked up.

“Please, I need more time,” begged Semple. “Just a few more days, and I’ll have it all, every bit of it.”

“Time is no longer a luxury you have, Semple,” said Harry coldly. “You had twenty years, your time is up.”

Harry put a silencing charm around the parameter of the flat, before he snapped his fingers, before stepping back and the mobsters pointed their machine guns at Semple, who threw his hands over his face instinctively. A motion that did him no good, as he was promptly killed by a rapid fire of gunfire. Semple flopped to the ground, completely motionless.

“Not nice, not pleasant,” muttered Harry bowing his head with a moment of silence. “Yet given the circumstances, an absolute necessity.”

“You had no choice, Boss Potter,” declared Antonio. “There was no way he could have paid us back so it was best to cut our losses.”

“Well, I suppose we better get to the most unpleasant part, cleaning up,” declared Harry, which caused a light round of chuckles. “I don’t know who might care about this guy, but it’s better to be safe then sorry.”

Outside of the flat, two shady looking men exited a limo that pulled up behind the limo that Harry and his employees had entered. They walked around, examining the vehicle rather closely.

“This is the vehicle, Frankie,” muttered one of the men.

“Looks like it to me, Vito,” declared the mobster known as Frankie, cracking his knuckles, before pulling out a gun. “Should we off them when they come out?”

“No, Boss Zabini doesn’t want them dead yet,” replied Vito, as he pulled out a knife. “He wants his new rival to be sent a message, a message in respect. Boss Zabini ain’t taking too kindly to his meddling, but since he’s new, he is willing to give the new guy a bit of a warning.”

“This guy’s been taking the boss’s turf over bit by bit,” declared Frankie in an incredulous voice. “There are two things that the boss doesn’t like. People taking over his turf and people who spell his last name wrong.”

“Yeah he had a guy whacked for misspelling his last name last night, doesn’t take too kindly to that,” said Vito with a bit of a chuckle, before straightening up. “But fatherhood has caused the boss to go soft, but as long as he still pays us, I ain’t complaining too much.”

“Let’s get down to business before they both come back,” declared Frankie, before pulling out a brick as his partner in crime pulled out a knife, before going to work.

Inside the flat, Harry finished waving his wand as the other mobsters hung back, watching their boss do all the work. The residence was eliminated with any residue that could link Harry or anyone else in his organization to anything that had happened in that flat.

“There, that should cover it,” declared Harry.

“Everything does run a lot smoother with a wizard running the operation,” declared Antonio as the others nodded and Harry looked flushed, before shaking his head.

“Just having a bit of trouble holding my disguise, must have overextended myself,” muttered Harry to himself, answering unasked questions. “Does get easier every time, but still an insane amount of mental concentration for a…”

A sound of shattering glass echoed outside from outside, causing Harry to jerk his head up and his mobsters look around frantically. A few seconds later, a sound tires squealing away from the scene. Harry motioned for the others to follow him outside. The door flew open without any effort by Harry, allowing everyone to exit the flat.

The limo had all four tires slashed, and the windshield had a brick put through it. One of the mobsters peaked through the windshield and spotted something.

“Look boss, there is a note attached to that brick,” declared the mobster and Harry rushed over, yanking the driver side door open. Harry removed the note from the brick.

“Stop trying to move in on my turf,” read Harry. “Or you will find yourself sleeping in stream somewhere with the fishes. Sincerely, Boss Zabini.”

Harry looked bemused, before shaking his head.

“Yes, Zabini, I knew you wouldn’t be too happy about my meddling, but do you think I’m going to stop on the account of you?” asked Harry, to no one in particular. “Still, I can’t believe he would pull something like this.”

“The damage to the limo, yeah I know,” said Antonio but Harry waved it off.

“I can fix that in a few minutes, it’s the matter that he threatened me,” declared Harry. “He obviously didn’t think too hard before childishly lashing out against me. It’s almost like he wasn’t expecting me to retaliate.”

“So what should we do next?” asked Antonio.

“Wait for a few days, lay low, and then I’ll spit in the face of Zabini’s threats,” answered Harry. “He’s not going to intimidate Boss Harry Potter that easily.”

With a quick bit of work, Harry waved his wand, fixing the tires and the windshield before moving into the limo and off into the night.

In the Leaky Cauldron, Narcissa Black sank down on her bed, tired from another day’s work, cursing her former husband’s inept actions regarding the matter of adopting Harry Potter. Lucius had received incompetent legal counseling from his representation and paid for it by breaking a clause in the contract that caused the Malfoy family fortune to be handed right over to Harry Potter. From what Narcissa was able to find out before she was thrown out of Gringotts, the contract was legal as far as the goblins were concerned and the creatures did get a hefty percentage in transference fees, so it wasn’t like they were going to cooperate with any humans other than Harry Potter.

Still, Lucius’s blundering tied directly into his inability to read a contract properly gave Narcissa a perfect reason to petition to the Wizengamot to get their marriage annulled. Narcissa did not want her name to be tied to his and indeed wanted to maintain some form of respect, despite losing everything, except her son. It had been coming for a long time, but Narcissa was willing to be blind to Lucius’s faults like her finding him in bed with other men, because of the heavy fortune tied to the Malfoy family name. Now, Narcissa felt herself free from Lucius and felt it would be better off for Draco, to not have his contaminating influence.

Narcissa did blame one other person for her current knutless status, other than Lucius. Albus Dumbledore was to blame for not bothering to educate Harry Potter in proper Wizarding traditions and etiquette. Otherwise, the boy would not have freed the house elf and Lucius would not have attacked Potter to break the contract. If she had the chance, Narcissa wanted to find a way to make Dumbledore pay. Maybe if she ever got in contact with Bella, who had escaped from Azkaban, she could be persuaded to do the deed. Narcissa doubted that her sister wouldn’t care how powerful, due to the rumors of her insanity that had reached her, caused by overexposure to the Dementors of Azkaban.

Early Saturday Morning, in the depths of Knockturn Alley, Severus Snape crept cautiously down the alley towards his destination, his hood over his face. Even with someone with the abilities of Snape, going down Knockturn Alley was always a risky proposition. It was a breeding ground to dark creatures. There were rumors that a group of Dementors outside of the control of the Ministry lurked towards the very end of Knockturn Alley, but no one had ever ventured that far to find out. Snape held his wand out at all times, before looking up and reaching his destination. Snape pushed open the door, still with his wand out, and walked into the dark, dusty, cobweb filled shop. There were several artifacts hanging from the shop, that not even Snape had the foggiest idea what they might be.

Snape walked up to the dusty desk and from a curtain behind the desk appeared a hunch backed, toothless old woman that was at least one hundred and twenty years ago. Smoke flew from the room where she had appeared and she looked Snape in the eyes.

“Sevvy dear, welcome,” declared the woman as Snape winced at that particular name. In normal instances, he would have cursed the person into oblivion, but he needed some assistance. “It has been too long, hasn’t it, darling?”

“Olga, I require your assistance…” replied Snape but the old woman, Olga, cut him off.

“Let me guess, you want an elixir to improve your looks,” said Olga. “Sorry deary, but I don’t do miracles, but perhaps you would like to look into a brand new revolutionary Muggle product to improve your hair and make it less greasy. I believe it is called shampoo.”

“No, I require something that will be able to block the fire from Muggle firearms,” responded Snape coolly. “Do you have anything of that nature, perhaps in the form of a Potion or maybe body armor?”

“I think I might be able to get something for you like that within the next two weeks or so,” said Olga thoughtfully and Snape reached into his pocket, before throwing a few galleons on the desk. “Did I say two weeks? I meant two minutes.”

Olga disappeared into the back room, as Snape waited patiently for her to reappear. Moments later she appeared with what appeared to be ugly looking body armor. She placed it in front of Snape.

“What precisely is this abomination?” asked Snape calmly.

“My finest acquisition,” declared Olga, before launching into an explanation. “It is dragon hide from a Hungarian Horntail, concentrated with the blood of a giant. It will make whoever wears it immune to the majority of all attacks, both magical and Muggle. The only thing that it cannot block is the Killing Curse.”

“Give it to me,” responded Snape, reaching for the armor but Olga had pulled it out of his grasp.

“Now, now, Sevvy, I can’t just give such a potent magical artifact away, that wouldn’t be good for business, now would it. Not to mention, it can become transparent and give you the element of surprise once you put it on. A value of one thousand galleons,” lectured Olga. “However, for you, darling, I will offer it for a mere five hundred galleons.”

“I teach Potions at Hogwarts, Olga,” declared Snape in a forced patient voice. “I’m lucky to make five hundred galleons in a year.”

“Oh, I do forget, how about three hundred and fifty galleons?” asked Olga. “Only because you are such a valued customer.”

“How about I pay ten galleons and I don’t tip off to the Ministry that you are breeding dangerous magical creatures in that back room?” suggested Snape. “Should be about upwards to thirty years in Azkaban?”

“Fifty galleons, that’s my final offer, Severus,” declared Olga in a forced voice, realizing she was practically giving the armor away but Snape seemed to excel in blackmail.

Snape shove the galleons into Olga’s hand, realizing that this transaction pretty much had cost him almost three months salary at Hogwarts, but it would be worth it once he got his hands on Harry Potter and presented him to the Dark Lord. Olga handed Snape the body armor and Snape slowly backed out of the show. He wouldn’t put it past that old hag to curse him while his back was turned and modify his memory, so she kept both the money and the armor.

Outside of Gringotts, Harry, Antonio, Remus, and Hermione had arrived outside of the magical bank, being followed at a safe distance by a couple of armed bodyguards. Harry had been sent a letter, requesting his presence immediately. Hermione was coming along because she insisted Harry show her around Diagon Alley. She was rather intrigued about the Magical World, and asked Harry nonstop questions about it since she had found out she was a witch. Harry felt that the best thing to do anyway was to pick up a few books, to help Hermione understand the basic magical theory before he started slowly teaching her Occlumency. And then, Harry could tell her everything, something that Harry was in two minds about. One, he would feel better about not shielding the truth from Hermione, but at the same time Harry could only begin to guess her reaction. Harry suspected that Hermione might piece it all together on her own sooner or later, but not say anything, waiting for Harry to tell her, so she could confirm her suspicions. Exactly how she would react, Harry could only begin to guess.

Harry decided the best thing would be to take this one step at a time and cross that particular bridge when he got to it. It would not be all that healthy if he dwelled on what might happen, what could happened, Harry tried to mostly concern himself with what was happening at the moment and what he needed to do to prevent the future that he had come from.

“I do wonder why Gringotts called you hear so urgently, Harry,” muttered Remus.

“That makes to of us, but they did tell me this was important,” declared Harry. “Maybe some long lost relative croaked and I inherited their money. I can’t really think of anything else, but we’ll find out in a few minutes.”

They walked into Gringotts, with Hermione looking around with a wide eyed expression on her face, as she took in the surroundings of the magical bank and she stepped back.

“What are those things?” whispered Hermione in a bit of a fearful voice.

“Goblins,” replied Harry calmly. “Guardians of the gold and other assorted treasures in this bank. Don’t worry through if they are a little surly. They don’t like anyone, but they won’t hurt you unless you try and steal from their bank.”

“Why would anyone want to steal from them?” asked Hermione incredulously.

“Severe head trauma,” suggested Antonio from behind them causing Harry and Hermione to snicker, before muttering to Harry. “Even with a gun, I don’t think I want to face these things down. They would look like they would take the gun and shove it straight up my…”

“May I help you?” asked the goblin known as Fondlemember before looking at Hermione, who was covering her eyes with her hands. “No need to be frightened child, we only dine on small children on Wednesdays.”

Harry didn’t know whether or not that was a joke. On second thought, he really did not want to know.

“You sent me a letter a few hours ago, wanting to see me in an urgent matter,” declared Harry calmly.

“Ah yes, young Mr. Potter,” remarked Fondlemember. “It seems you have found yourself in the middle of quite the unique situation in regards your inheritance. If you would follow me, I shall inform you of the matter away from prying eyes or ears for that matter.”

Remus looked at Harry but Harry nodded his head, indicating that he would be fine. Fondlemember lead Harry down a corridor, to an office, where the office door slammed shut once Harry had entered the office. Fondlemember motioned for Harry to sit down in the empty chair, before pulling a folder out and throwing it on the desk.

“I’ll be blunt, Mr. Potter, even the goblins know that the Ministry of Magic has been pouring in resources to try and track you down,” declared Fondlemember. “We goblins rarely take notice to the affairs of wizards, but once matters of gold are involved, that is an entirely different story and we decided to look closely at one Albus Dumbledore.”

Fondlemember looked at Harry, who seemed to be a bit confused, so the goblin decided to elaborate.

“Your parents stipulated in their will that Dumbledore was to receive five hundred galleons a month to be used for the Order of the Phoenix organization,” declared Fondlemember. “All three existing copies of the will, the one on file at Gringotts, the one on file at the Wizengamot, and the one on file at the Department of Mysteries all say this and we believe Dumbledore has not found a way to alter the wills. But, there was a catch in the will that Dumbledore choose to disregard.”

“And what was that catch, Fondlemember?” asked Harry.

“Dumbledore was to make sure you were sent to a suitable home,” declared Fondlemember. “There were no other stipulations other than that. Needless to say, being send to Vernon and Petunia Dursley was not your parents’ idea of a suitable home.”

“So Dumbledore violated that issue,” declared Harry. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Precisely, your parents also issued two hundred galleons to the person or persons who would be taking you in, so they would not have to spend one knut on you,” said Fondlemember which caused Harry to slam his hands down on the desk.

“They pocketed my money and they still treated me like dirt,” declared Harry.

“We have records of account transactions from Gringotts to the Muggle bank account of the Dursleys that you might find of use in the future,” declared Fondlemember. “Needless to say, Dumbledore was very shrewd in this manner, as it is our belief that he may have convinced himself that you were being sent to a suitable home. However, while Dumbledore might convince the Ministry of Magic that he wasn’t violating the terms of the will, signing this document will cause Gringotts to take the proper precautions.”

“And what are these proper precautions?” asked Harry.

“Forty Two Thousand Galleons will find its way from Dumbledore’s vault to yours, as the goblin nation feels that will be the best way to teach him a lesson and thus have him pay back the funds he receive in error,” declared Fondlemember, who looked pleased at how much the transference fees would be. “We at Gringotts frown upon fraud and since the Dumbledore family vault only has a balance of twenty three thousand, five hundred, and twenty nine galleons, three sickles, and four knuts…well let us just say that Mr. Dumbledore might have to get another job in addition to his other duties to make up the difference.”

Harry nodded, Dumbledore might have not intentionally been stealing from him, but Harry felt that forty two thousand galleons somewhat compensated for being forced to live with the Dursleys during the other lifetime.

“Where do I sign?” asked Harry in a calm voice and Fondlemember pushed a piece of parchment in front of him.

“Sign here, here, and initial here,” declared Fondlemember and Harry did as he was told. “There, all of Dumbledore’s money is being transferred to the Potter vault and the repo goblins have been sent out to confiscate his property to auction it off. That should be good for a few more thousand galleons, but I daresay Dumbledore will need to find a way to make up the difference rather quick.”

Fondlemember looked at Harry.

“One more small item of value,” declared Fondlemember. “You were to inherit an Invisibility Cloak that was a Potter family heirloom. That item has been lost, but there is belief that Dumbledore has it in his possession. If our repo goblins manage to track it down, we will return it to your vault and inform you of such.”

“Is that all?” asked Harry.

“Yes, Mr. Potter, you are excused,” said Fondlemember in a dismissive voice and Harry took it as his cue to leave.

Hermione seemed to be in awe every place they visited in Diagon Alley. She even seemed mildly impressed by Quality Quidditch Supplies, but naturally the one thing Hermione was looking forward to was getting inside Flourish and Blotts.

“It’s the place to get the latest books about the Magical World, Hermione,” explained Harry as they enter the store. “Sadly, there are a few bits and pieces of rubbish, mostly written by Gilderoy Lockhart and Rita Skeeter, but the rest are written by the best and the brightest in their fields.”

Hermione nodded, as she looked at the shelves and shelves of books.

“The only place that has more books in the Magical World is the Hogwarts library,” responded Harry.

“Naturally, most of the really useful ones are in the restricted section,” added Remus. “You need permission from a teacher, which can be hard to get. James and Sirius were always good at making up excuses to get a pass to the restricted section.”

“Where do we start through Harry?” asked Hermione.

“The beginning is always a nice place,” answered Harry. “You’d want a book that introduces the basic theory of magic, before you actually learn any spell work. I think we should also get a book about the basics of mental magic, because it will help when you learn Occlumency.”

“Sounds like a good idea, Harry,” said Antonio, before looking around. “Seems to be no one here, except for that man with greasy hair and hooked nose….”

Harry looked up, and saw a very unfortunate addition that had just walked in. He quickly threw his hood up, obscuring his face, wishing that he had thought to take some of his disguise potion this morning.

“Snape,” hissed Remus and Harry in unison, which caused Hermione to look at both of them with a confused look but Snape’s curiosity, seemed to be caught by their words and he walked over, recognizing Remus immediately.

“Good morning, Lupin, I was under the impression that you had been kidnapped by the mob,” declared Snape calmly, before looking at the hooded figure and seeing a very familiar looking pair of green eyes and realizing immediately. “Potter.”

“Uh, excuse me,” declared Harry, feigning child like innocent but Snape grabbed Harry roughly by the shoulders, before throwing his hood back.

“Don’t play games with me, Potter!” demanded Snape in a forceful voice. “You can’t be arrogant enough to think I would fall for your act, well you are coming with me or…”

“Let him go, Snape,” warned Lupin, as he pulled his wand out, but Snape looked at Lupin.

“Perhaps, you and Black were really in on this together, taking the brat, along with the mob,” declared Snape calmly, as Hermione looked fearful but Antonio quickly led his niece away from the scene “Lupin, Dumbledore will be very interested to see that you are gallivanting around with a wanted criminal. Then again, I would expect nothing less from a dark creature.”

Harry waved his hand as his bodyguards peered inside the window, before they aimed their guns right at Snape’s back. A barrage of bullets shot towards Snape, which caused him to drop Harry and Harry to duck behind the book shelves, so he could get out his wand.

“Fools, I was ready for your firearm assault,” declared Snape coldly, before pointing his wand at the bodyguards who nodded.

“This guy must have some kind of body armor on underneath his clothing,” declared one of the bodyguards.

“I guess we’re going to take him out the old fashion way,” grunted the other bodyguard, as they moved in, surrounding Snape from either side, but Snape was ready.

“AVADA KEDVARA!” yelled Snape, striking one of the bodyguards in the chest, causing him to crumple to the ground, dead.

The other bodyguard raised his arms, attempting to cave Snape’s head in but Snape slashed his wand towards the chest of the bodyguard. The bodyguard dropped to his knees, winded before Snape moved in for the kill.

“Avada Kedavra!” declared Snape calmly and the other bodyguard dropped dead.

In a flash Lupin sent a stunner towards Snape but Snape calmly deflected it.

“Pathetic, Lupin,” declared Snape as he avoided a full body bind. “The fact you were third in our year in Defense against the Dark Arts is quite laughable but perhaps I should give you a free lesson.”

Snape conjured a net from his wand, before blasting it towards Remus. Remus was not quick enough, the net wrapping around him and trapping him, nearly crushing him. The werewolf was alive, but just barely, as it was difficult to breath in the close quarters Snape kept him.

Harry turned to face Snape.

“What do you want?” asked Harry, unable to keep the venom out of his tone.

“Come with me, Potter, and I’ll let the others live,” declared Snape in a threatening voice before pointing his wand towards Potter. “Imperio.”

Harry felt the blank feeling that was common with the Imperius Curse wash over his mind.

“Follow me, Potter,” declared Snape and inside Harry’s body, an internal battle between his six year old self and his twenty six year old self were locked in a struggle. The six year old self seemed to be bending to Snape’s will and took a tentative step forward, but Harry’s older self deep within his subconscious was holding him back.

“No,” whispered Harry calmly as Snape.

“COME POTTER!” yelled Snape but Hermione apparently could take no more and rushed from Antonio’s grip.

“No Hermione come back, your mother will kill me if anything happens to you,” muttered Antonio desperately, but Hermione stamped on Snape’s foot.

“Leave Harry alone!” yelled Hermione in a forceful voice, which managed to break Snape’s concentration slightly, enough for Harry to be able to shake off the effects of the curse.

Snape calmly shoved Hermione to the ground and Antonio looked to make a move, but Snape raised his wand and Harry rushed to the side as fast as his six year old legs could carry him.

“Avada Kedavra!” declared Snape, as Hermione looked confused as the jet of green light come at her, but at the last minute, Harry rushed over, pulling Hermione to the side, before it could it her. Harry could fill the Killing Curse missing the back of his own hair by inches and it impacting into the book shelf, catching it on fire.

Harry looked up at Snape with pure venom in his green eyes, as Hermione was shaking right next to him, petrified out of her mind. Severus Snape had sunk to a new low, firing a killing curse at a seven year old child. Snape stared back, surveying the child with curiosity, as Harry hoped that one his latest discoveries before he was knocked back in time would be enough to beat Snape. If he could only goad Snape into trying to use Legilimency on him.

“Interesting Potter, you seemed to know what exactly that curse was, judging by your alarm when I aimed at your little friend here,” declared Snape. “Perhaps you would like to inform me as to why?”

“Eat dung!” declared Harry a childish tone.

“Very well Potter,” said Snape.

“You mean you are going to actually eat dung,” declared Harry curiously.

“No, Potter, there are other ways to find out the truth with weak minded individuals such as yourself,” declared Snape with a tone that indicated that he was struggling to remain calm and pointing his wand towards Harry’s head. “Legilmens.”

Snape attempted to force his way into the boy’s mind but found a surprising amount of resistance for a six year old. He was not going to give up that easy and Snape attempted to summon all of his willpower to force his way into the brat’s mind.

The next thing Snape knew, he felt an impact not unlike getting hit in the head with a blunt object. Snape dropped to the ground, knocked completely unconscious.

Harry walked over, freeing Remus from his trap, as Antonio walked over.

“Is he dead?” asked Antonio.

“Unfortunately not,” responded Harry. “He might have brain damage, but you kind of have to have a brain first.”

Harry looked at Hermione, who seemed to be at a loss for words, looking around, but taking a deep breath.

“Harry, who was that mean greasy man?” asked Hermione.

“Severus Snape, he works for Dumbledore,” explained Harry. “He also had worked for…”

Harry shook his head stopping himself. He had yet to tell Hermione about Voldemort yet and didn’t want to break that particular news bit yet.

“Anyway, I’m guessing Dumbledore wanted to get his hands on me, to no doubt convince me to testify for his behalf at the hearing,” declared Harry abruptly, as he looked at Snape, who had not shown any signs of movement.

“Are we quite sure he’s not dead?” asked Antonio.

“Yes I’m sure,” declared Harry before looking outside of Flourish and Blotts and resisting the urge to swear. “The Ministry is here, which is nearly as bad as Dumbledore because they will want me to discredit him so they can look better at retrospect and then use me like a mascot. Contrary to popular belief, I only like to do things that might have some type of benefit in it for me or at least people who won’t turn around to use me like a puppet. That being said, we need to get out of here, on the double.”

“The limo is a ways off, we’ll never take make it in time and past all those Ministry officials,” declared Antonio, as the four moved several rows back.

“Portkey, completely magical, slightly illegal, but a quick way to give the Ministry of Magic a slip,” declared Harry, as he picked up “Year with the Yeti” by Gilderoy Lockhart. “Ah yes, the perfect piece of rubbish to make our Portkey.”

Harry replaced the book with the two galleons it had cost, a rip-off as far as Harry was concerned. They should be paying him two galleons to take the book off their hands.

“Harry, that’s a brand new book,” whispered Hermione, who seemed to look scandalized at Harry calling a book rubbish.

“And soon, it will be a brand new paper weight,” replied Harry before adding in an undertone. “It’s by Gilderoy Lockhart, so absolutely nothing in that book is of value.”

“Who isn’t too bright, as Sirius and James replaced his wand with a piece of licorice at Hogwarts and he didn’t notice for a week,” replied Remus.

“Set that thing to go to Jonathan and Marie’s, I need to drop off Hermione by noon,” declared Antonio.

“Will do,” said Harry but Hermione seemed to be surveying Harry with a rather curious and searching expression. “Yes Hermione.”

“Harry, that looks like really advanced magic, something that a six year old shouldn’t be able to do..” started Hermione.

“I’ll tell you when you’ve mastered Occlumency, Hermione,” declared Harry in an absent minded voice, as he finished the Portkey, which began to glow blue. Harry felt a little flushed, but managed to shake his head, clearing the mental cobwebs. “Okay, this thing will activate in one minute. Remus, you know what to do. Antonio, Hermione, put a finger on it.”

Remus, Antonio, and Hermione did just that. Seconds before the Aurors would have just reached their hiding place, the Portkey transported them just outside the front door of Hermione’s parents.

“Close shave, Harry,” muttered Remus but Harry barely was able to look up to acknowledge Remus. Knocking back Snape’s mental attack, activating the Portkey, and using his own magic to transport the Portkey had stretched Harry’s body’s ability to use magic to the limit.

“Harry, are you okay?” asked Hermione.

“Fine, Hermione,” muttered Harry weakly, taking a couple of steps forward, before collapsing to the ground, from a severe case of magical exhaustion.